


Phil's Sick Day

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [12]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Beware Villain of the Week, Clint enjoys Phil's left handed dexterity... not what you're thinking... dirty dirty minds!, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Finger guns, Fluff and Angst, Headaches & Migraines, Imagine ClintCoulson, M/M, Natasha Steve and Bruce are sad when Phil sees them and promptly passes out, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phil Needs a Hug, Phil tells Clint he's important, Phil's sick day, Thor searches for food and ale... and pepper, Tony and Agent and Heavy Rock/Metal, Tumblr Prompt, Uncharacteristic behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: For an anonymous Imagine ClintCoulson prompt"Imagine Phil hasn’t been feeling well, making for some uncharacteristic behavior, and Clint/team/friends are much more understanding once they realize why"Thanks for the prompt anon, hope you enjoy the fill.





	Phil's Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.

Phil swung his legs out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress feeling like death warmed over. His head and throat ached, his mouth was dry, and he was shivering. He scrubbed a hand over his face letting go a breath that rattled deep in his chest. Lovely! Really he should crawl back under the covers and try to sleep it off but he had a debrief with The Avengers scheduled for this morning to go over the previous day’s exploits. He couldn’t delay it again.

They’d all been tired or wired and definitely ravenous by the time the ‘Villain of the Week’ and his minions were carted off in secure SHIELD transport trucks, and as no-one had been injured he’d suggested they hold the debrief over until this morning. The suggestion was met with such an enthusiastic response he almost found it hurtful. As usual he’d stayed behind to coordinate the clean up until Agent Sitwell arrived and threatened to taze him if he didn’t go home and get some sleep. Phil always knew that speech would come back to bite him in the ass one day. Apparently its time had come.

Then finally it sank in. Avengers. Debrief. Today. Oh god! Now he _really_ wanted to stay in bed! Even at peak fitness meetings with the team could be wearing but feeling like this…

He fell sideways onto the pillow and groaned. Today was going to be crap!

***

Although Coulson had full access from the underground parking garage to the Avengers’ floors in the Tower, he would often hit his favourite coffee vendor near the building before heading in. And today he _really_ needed that coffee. Coffee which he inhaled deeply and almost finished in two throat burning gulps before leaving the proximity of the truck.

As he approached the main entrance, coffee carrier long since discarded, Coulson pointed a finger gun at Dekes, one of Avengers Tower’s doormen. He’d have pointed two but… briefcase.

“Yo, Mikee! How’s it goin’?” he called strutting towards him with a cocky bounce in his step.

Dekes’ eyebrows almost touched his hairline with shock. It’s not that Agent Coulson didn’t speak to him. He did. Always politely said good morning or whatever depending on the time of day, and asked after him. Coulson was great a remembering everything he was told from other times they spoke. He was a good guy. It’s just he was usually a lot more… reserved.

“Uhhh fine, Agent Coulson. You?”

“Never better, man. Never better.”

The fuck? The agent sounded spookily like Dekes (aka Mikee). Well, the way he spoke with his family and friends but _never_ with visitors at the Tower. Not that he could remember anyway. Except maybe the archer-guy, Clint. They would sometime sass it up shooting the breeze together.

But Coulson? _Hell_ no!

Coulson slapped him on the upper arm and continued into the building, still with the swagger, leaving Dekes with a mystified look on his face. Shit! Maybe the fucker got laid last night. At least one of them had. Lucky sonofabitch.

Coulson walked through the lobby nodding or saying hello to people, his step gradually returning to normal. He didn’t think much about his exchange with Dekes; in fact he didn’t dwell on it at all. His head was beginning to pound and the shivering had started up again. By the time he entered the elevator he’d already decided after the debrief he was going to head home, fall into bed, and stay there for the next twenty-four hours until this damned bug passed.

“Good morning, Agent Coulson.” Stark’s AI greeted him with his usual friendly but clipped English accent.

“Morning, JARVIS,” Coulson responded, sounding exhausted. He slumped against the wall, feeling drained all of a sudden. He was usually way better at hiding this shit, dammit! It seemed to come in waves. One minute he was fine, _perky_ even. The next it was as though someone had let all the air out of his tyres.

“It’s good to see you again, sir, although I wonder, are you feeling quite well today? I’m detecting an elevated temperature and several indicators that you may be in some discomfort. I also note that you appear somewhat… fatigued.”

Coulson huffed out a quiet laugh and said, “Yeah, that pretty much covers it, JARVIS, but… a good night’s sleep’ll fix it. Thanks for asking though.”

“You’re quite welcome, sir. If required I can always run a diagnostic to determine the cause. And potential treatment.” JARVIS had instructions never to run more than the most cursory of scans on occupants of Tower unless immediate danger was indicated and there was nothing to warrant that so far. He would require Coulson’s permission or a security override to proceed any further.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just tired from yesterday’s shenanigans but… I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Very good, Agent Coulson. In that case, I wish you luck with your meeting. Sir is somewhat preoccupied with auto-maintenance this morning. I believe Ms Potts has tried to capture his attention on several occasions but to no avail.”

Oh joy! A wayward Tony Stark he did not need. Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Awesome!” he sighed as the elevator doors opened on the communal floor. “Appreciate the warning, JARVIS.”

“You’re quite welcome, sir,” the AI replied sounding sympathetic.

Making his way along the corridor, Coulson spied the first of his Avengers teammates and called out to him.

“Son of Odin! I trust this day finds you well?”

Thor was a little taken aback by Coulson’s jovial greeting. It was shouted at him from but a few feet away, very much the way he would hail a friend himself, however he was delighted by it too. It was most unlike SHIELD agent to be so exuberant but perhaps he was due to visit Asgard soon and was practising his techniques of salutation. It would be well received if that were the case.

“It does, son of Coul. And from your hearty greeting I would presume the same of you.”

“Truth be told, I am not in a wording mood this day but… needs must. Perhaps a feast would be in order at our gathering. What say you, my Asgardian friend? Shall we ask the Man of Iron to arrange food and ale for the band of warriors six?” Phil punctuated his question with a few hearty thumps to Thor’s arm.

Thor grinned at him. “A noble idea, SHIELD brother. But I believe you mean seven. Without kissing of your ass, you’re a fine warrior in your own right. Ably proved in yesterday’s battle. Nevertheless I shall do as you suggest and find friend Stark. Or perhaps the good Lady Pepper.”

“There is wisdom in seeking out Lady Pepper. I’ve heard tell she still resides within the building at this hour.”

“Then consider it done. I shall search for her while you gather the others.”

Coulson gave a wide smile and nodded then continued on to the conference room where they usually came together… which was empty. Huh! Time to track down the rest of Team Avengers.

As he turned to leave, a wave of shivering and a sharp pain in his head struck again. He dropped his briefcase and leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath.

***

“Sir? I believe Agent Coulson has arrived to collect you for your 8:30am meeting.”

Stark peered up from the empty engine bay of the ‘67 Shelby Cobra. The engine itself was hanging from an A-frame hoist nearby.

“Tell him I’m busy. Or out. Or doing something waaaay more interesting. Oh hey, Agent Agent. Apparently you got round JARVIS’ security. Again,” Stark snarked with a annoyed look. He was working on fitting the engine back and could do without any Coulson or SHIELD or Avengers shit killing his buzz today thank you.

“Of course. He likes me better than you, Doctor Doctor,” Coulson quipped back. “So what’s with the engine removal and… can I help?”

“Is this a test? I don’t do well with tests. Actually I do. I ace them but that’s not the point. What do you want? And what are you doing? Okay stop that! It’s freaking me out a little. Okay, maybe a lot.”

Coulson had shrugged out of his jacket, removed his tie and opened the top couple of buttons of his shirt as he was talking. Now he was rolling up his sleeves. If Stark was freaked out before, he was pooping daggers now. He’d never seen Coulson look so… naked!

“Can’t help if I’m suited and booted. So… what’re we doing?”

“You’re an agent, Agent Agent.” Stark smirked at his own humour, sadly lacking though it was. “You can’t help me with the delicate intricacies of a classic beauty like…”

Coulson rolled his eyes and poked him in the ribs with the business end of a torque wrench. “A 1967 Shelby Cobra: front-mounted 7-litre, 427 bhp V8 engine; 0-60 in 4.5 seconds, quarter-mile in 12.4 seconds.”

Coulson smirked at Stark’s open-jawed expression. “I might be a SHIELD agent but I have skills outside of work. JARVIS?”

“Sir?”

“How about track seven of Coulson playlist three while we work?”

“Excellent choice, sir. Shall I inform the others? They’re starting to gather for the debrief.”

Coulson gave Stark a glance that was full of mischief. “Let’s give them time to get their panties in a bunch. They’ll send someone down eventually. Crank it, JARVIS.”

The intricate guitar introduction of AC/DC’s _Thunderstruck_ blared from the speakers scattered throughout the garage. Stark tilted his head and arched an eyebrow at Coulson who smirked back at him. With the expression on Stark’s face, the track couldn’t have been more appropriate. And as always, Angus Young nailed it.

“Who are you and what have you done with Agent Agent? You know what? Who cares. I kinda like this one. Think maybe I’ll keep him.”

***

In the end was Clint who came to find them. Well, to find Coulson. It wasn’t like his handler to be so tardy with his timekeeping and truthfully he was curious to find out why.

Of course, JARVIS told him he was with Tony so it made some kind of sense that Coulson had been held up. Clint knew from bitter (and not so bitter experience - Stark can be a great guy as well as a giant pain in the ass) that the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist had a way of getting people totally off track, although not usually Coulson. So yeah, he was curious.

What he _didn’t_ expect is to see is Coulson with his shirtsleeves rolled up, draped over the framework of Stark’s blue ‘67 Cobra helping put the engine back. He didn’t quite ogle or squeak at the damn fine ass or equally fine arms on display but he did appreciate the sight for a few moments before announcing his presence in a voice raised to compete with the strains of Metallica’s _Enter_ _Sandman_.

“Hey, boss. You know we’re getting ready to start the briefing without you, yeah?”

Coulson and Stark had been working in companionable silence (if you discounted the blaring hard rock and metal coming from the speakers), but sudden cease of movement from Coulson made Stark look up and frown in concern at what he saw.

Coulson had frozen at the sound of Clint’s voice, his body going completely rigid. A light sheen of sweat had broken out along the line of his forehead. His eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched, the muscles bunched together in a tight knot. He looked like he was in serious pain. And Stark knew pain.

And then it was gone.

Coulson’s face relaxed and the tension fell away from his body. A shy smile broke out on his face as he turned to greet Hawkeye. He wiped his forearm across his brow before reaching his hand to the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. It was the same gesture that right Stark had seen Barton make a hundred times before. The hell?

“Hey, Barton. JARVIS, could you mute the track.”

Immediately there was blessed silence. Coulson shrugged at Clint while he twirled the spanner he’d just been using between his fingers. Clint watched him impressed. He had no idea his handler was so… dexterous with his left hand. Neither did Stark but then up until an hour ago, he had no idea the SHIELD agent was such a petrolhead.

“Naw! You’re not gonna start without me,” he told the archer with cocky grin.

Clint raised his eyebrow. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

“Cuz you know they’re not nearly as much fun without me there.”

And was that a tiny bit of a mid-western twang that had crept into Coulson’s voice? It also appeared Stark didn’t know he was a talented mimic too apparently. Curiouser and curiouser.

Now Barton did the hand/neck thing. Stark didn’t know whether to laugh or send Dum-E after them with a fire extinguisher. Maybe a bucket of water. Their flirting was painful. They didn’t even _know_ they were flirting and that was even _more_ painful.

Stark frowned again, his mind racing. Much as he’d actually enjoyed Coulson’s company when they were working on the car, he was beginning to sense something wasn’t right. And now this weird, totally non-Coulson behaviour. It suddenly struck him how right he’d been with his “Who are you and what have you done with Agent Agent” question earlier.

“You coming, man?” Coulson asked him, jutting his chin towards the door.

“You betcha,” Stark replied with a fixed grin. It probably looked more like a grimace but with the way the two SHIELD agents were giving each other the seemingly unintentional come-on, he doubted either of them would notice.

“Hey, Coulson!” he called.

Coulson looked back over his shoulder at Stark.

“Jacket and tie maybe?”

“Aw, tie, no!” Coulson pouted looking down at the open neck of his shirt.

Clint snorted and lifted his clothes as Coulson unrolled his sleeves and fastened his buttons. He nudged Coulson’s shoulder with his own prompting a pushing war as they headed out the door.

Stark watched their disappearing backs with a worried expression.

“That _is_ Phil Coulson, right JARVIS?”

“It is, Sir. Permitted scans have indeed confirmed.”

“Okay. Run a medical diagnostic bioscan on Coulson and set up a play-by-play of any events involving him in yesterday’s fun and games,” he told JARVIS. Before the AI could remind him of any privacy violation he added, “Stark security override mike echo papa zero seven Coulson. Get back to me ASAP.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Medical Emergency Protocol underway.”

After a moment Stark added, “J… include any footage from this morning.”

“Already on it, Sir.”

***

“Sir, Agent Coulson has collapsed in the boardroom. Dr Cho is already on her way with a medical team but I thought you should know.”

“Shit! Send the results to Dr Cho’s server. And the green giant’s. I’m on my way,” Stark shouted as he ran for the elevator.

***

Coulson slowly opened his eyes. The lights were dim but he could make out enough to know he wasn’t at home or in SHIELD medical. Carefully and moving his head as little as possible, he scanned the room taking in the monitoring equipment he was hooked up to and the figure slumped in the chair beside him. Barton. He smiled. It’s not often the tables were turned and Barton felt the need to watch over him. But he appreciated he was there. He also noted a second figure standing at the foot of his bed reviewing his charts.

“You gave them quite a scare,” an unusually soft voiced Tony Stark chastised. He didn’t include himself in the statement mostly because he didn’t want to admit he’d been worried too. For all he pretended otherwise, he really was very fond of the SHIELD agent. “Especially Katniss. Seriously. You really have to stop doing that.”

“But not you,” Coulson’s voice was gravelly. He swallowed uncomfortably. HIs throat was so dry and painful. But at least the killer headache was gone.

“Not me. I’m made of sterner stuff.” He paused and looked up from the chart. “Uhh… don’t do it again though.”

Coulson was touched both by the sentiment and the concern he could see in the other man’s eyes. Feeling like he’d been caught, Stark nonchalantly hooked the chart back over the bed end and began to walk away, but after a few feet he stopped. Without turning he added, “If you ever want to do some autoshop 101…”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth curled up in a tired half-smile. “Sure. I’d… like that.”

Stark nodded once and left the room. Coulson never saw his wide grin and sparkling eyes.

“He’s right you know,” said a voice beside him, still rough with sleep. Clint was awake - had been for a couple of minutes. He pulled himself out the chair to pick up a cup of water. Holding the straw to Coulson’s mouth he allowed him a couple of sips before taking it away.

Coulson nodded his thanks, and his acknowledgement that Clint was right. “I know but… in my defence… I thought it was just a bug. Guessing… not so much.”

Clint snorted and gave him a little more water before setting it down on the nightstand. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at his handler. He could see The Scar through his chest hair but his gaze didn’t linger and he didn’t comment. And he tried not to feel the familiar flicker of guilt. He had other shit to call Coulson on right now.

“Good guess, boss. Apparently Asshole of the Week managed to get some sort of dart loaded with toxin off before Thor hit him with Mewmew. But he was real subtle the way he did it. No-one saw it happen - JARVIS picked it up through CCTV footage - and I’m guessing you probably didn’t feel it. It hit the back of your neck by the way. Just above the hairline.”

Coulson shook his head and winced. No head movement. Check. He recalled things had been pretty intense towards the end of the damb-assery. Adrenaline was coursing through him at that point. He hadn’t felt damn a thing. Not until the next day at least.

“Was I a complete tool?” he asked quietly, sounding and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Clint laughed gently at Coulson’s words and the pained expression. “You don’t remember?”

“Not much. Mostly the blinding headache and the shitty ‘flu feeling.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “How long have I been out?”

Clint shrugged. “About two days. They kept you under and took a shit load of blood samples. Tasha had a word or two with the toxin dispensing fuckwit and came back with a sample from the SHIELD lab for the science bros to analyse. They’re calling it ‘The Mimic Serum’. It wasn’t designed to be lethal. It was designed to be used with Hydra’s photostatic veil? Apparently it would help the user take on the personality of the victim and make for better infiltration.”

“Huh!” It was a lot to take in. And right now he was feeling as weak as a two day old kitten. He’d get his head round it when he was feeling stronger. He didn’t want to interrupt Barton though. It was nice just to have him here, a soothing presence in amongst the madness.

Seeing he was still standing, Coulson patted the bed beside him for Barton to sit down. Surprised at the invitation, he plonked himself down nonetheless.

“To answer your other question, nah, you weren’t a tool. But the footage from around the Tower is fucking hilarious. I don’t think Dekes will ever be the same after you pointed a finger gun at him.”

Coulson groaned and pressed his head into the pillow. Clint snorted with laughter, trying to ignore the head press and groan would have been incredibly hot had it been done under different circumstances. Instead he continued to update Coulson with all that had happened until he finally collapsed.

“I think Tasha, Steve and Bruce are pretty upset with you. I mean, you were going great guns - ‘scuse the pun - until you walked into the meeting room. Then you took one look at the three of them, grabbed your head and fell to your knees where you… pretty much passed out.”

Here Clint went quiet and dropped his head forward, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap.

“It was pretty fucking scary,” he murmured. It had been. He’d never seen Coulson in so much pain that he actually passed out from it. Gunshots, beatings, knife wounds… yeah, they’d helped each other through those (well mostly Coulson had helped Clint) but this was something else. This was serious. This was fucking Loki-type scary.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t realise it was anything more than a 24hr bug. Or... something.”

Coulson reached out and touched his fingertips to the back of Clint’s hand. Clint tilted his head to look up at him and nodded. Again he was a little taken aback by Coulson’s demonstrative behaviour. Usually he was more detached than this. He often showed concern, yes, but very rarely touched and it sent a warm feeling up his arm into his chest. He could either pull his hand away or…

Clint turned his hand to take Coulson’s in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Fuck it!

“Not your fault boss. The serum was only supposed to be used on a one-to-one basis. You speaking to multiple people while it was in your system… I dunno, I guess we’re lucky that big brain of yours handled it for as long as it did. Besides, now that we realise why, we’re a lot more understanding.”

Coulson snorted out a short laugh and gave Clint that half-smile of his. But he didn’t remove his hand. Instead his thumb slowly brushed over Clint’s knuckles.

“Thanks for staying with me,” he said softly.

Clint shrugged. “It’s not like you haven’t done it for me plenty. Besides, I wasn’t the only one. The others came to visit.”

“But you stayed.”

Clint gave him a wry smile. “They didn’t need me anywhere else. I’m not as important as the rest of the Avengers.”

Coulson’s grip tightened. “Not true. And… not to me.”

Clint looked up at Coulson his breath catching at the intensity of his gaze and the heat, almost anger, in his voice. Well. This was new.

“You sure that’s not the serum speaking?” he joked. Coulson actually gave his words some serious consideration.

“Welllll…” he said thoughtfully. “If it is then… going by what you said, I’m only reflecting the personality of the other person. And that… would be you.”

Damn! Should have thought that one through more.

“Oh. Right.” He lowered his gaze and hIs free hand shot to the back of his neck rubbing it uneasily.

Coulson loosened his grip again. “Clint. If I misread or misspoke… I’m sorry. I guess I’m still a little tired. Maybe even a little doped up. Perhaps you can put it down to that.”

He tried to pull his hand away but Clint didn’t let go.

“Tell you what, boss. You still feel like that when you get outta here, we’ll revisit the whole thing.”

“Sounds very levelheaded for you. You sure you didn’t get any serum by accident?”

Coulson was grateful Clint had taken his unintentional outburst the way he had. He didn’t realise how he felt until Clint berated himself. Again. Calling himself less important than everyone else. It wasn’t right for him to think like that still and it was so not true. Not to SHIELD. Not to The Avengers. And _especially_ not to him. And apparently whatever meds he’d been on had lowered his inhibitions enough to blurt it out.

He felt a sense of burning disappointment when Clint finally let go of his hand and stood up. But instead of leaving as Coulson thought he would, he pulled the chair closer to the bed and gently took his hand again in both of his.

“Maybe you should get some more rest, boss. Be here if you need me.”

As though Clint had spoken some magical incantation, Coulson felt his eyelids grow heavy and close.

“Always need you, Barton,” he murmured as he fell back asleep.

Clint stroked the back of Coulson’s hand with his thumb. “Counting on that, sir,” he whispered.


End file.
